


Rumour Has It

by Dziude



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Bagginshield, Bets, Bofur is fabulous, Cultural Differences, DWALIN YOU ABSOLUTE MADMAN, Do dwarven ladies have beards or not? WHO KNOWS, Drunk Dwarves, Drunkenness, Dwarf Culture, Fluff and Humor, Foolishness, Gen, I'm a LADY, M/M, Misunderstandings, Sass, There are no ladies in this story. But Bofur won't stop imitating Little Britain now, Tricks, Trolling, bagginshield, drunken nonsense, trolololol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-27 00:00:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13868781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dziude/pseuds/Dziude
Summary: An incident in an inn. Even on an Important Quest, dwarves need to let their hair down and have a little fun from time to time. Bonus points if it comes with nearly giving other folks a heart attack. And isn't it funny how rumours can spring from small misunderstandings?





	Rumour Has It

**Author's Note:**

> I don't quite know what this is supposed to be, but here it is regardless. It's supposed to be foolish and funny. It wasn't supposed to be Bagginshield-y at all, and yet in they sneak. I obviously have even more problems than I thought. I do put blame on Peter Jackson however, for inventing Sexy Dwarves. Dammit Peter, now look what you've done. You git. (P.S. Thanks!).

 The inn was fairly quiet when Thorin's company arrived under the dying sun of the late afternoon. Not many traders would pass this close to winter if they could help it. A large room under the eaves had been given for their use- sparse and simple but relatively clean, with a merry fire and a bolt on the door. Straw mattresses were laid out on rush mats over the aged floorboards and water had been sent up.

Bilbo lazed on a pallet and listened to the murmurings of his companions as they bathed themselves by the hearth. The water that had been sent up was not hot, but the chill had been warmed from it at least. Such luxury! He smiled to himself. How a few months in the wild could change one's perspective... The hobbit was unaware he had dozed, until he was startled back to awareness by something poking him in the ribs. Blearily, he saw Bofur smirking down at him, moustaches twitching.  
  
"Might be, Master Burglar, you'll want to be down for supper right and sharp before the others make away with it all!" The dwarf was already halfway to the doorway before Bilbo sat up, disorientated. The room was quiet, and for a moment he thought they had all gone down without him - until he noticed their leader. Thorin Oakenshield was sitting on a mattress nearby in his undershirt and breeches, tugging on his boots. His hair hung loose, sticking out haphazardly as it dried.  
  
The hobbit stared. It took several seconds before the sense of Bofur's words filtered through his confused brain. Supper! With a rather undignified sound, he leapt up and made a dash for the water buckets, shedding his rumpled clothing as he went. The water was almost cold by now as it trickled over his skin, but the low rumble of Thorin's laughter left his ears feeling rather warm indeed.  
  


* * *

 

The common room was crowded when they descended a scant few minutes later. Men of all types seemed to have packed themselves inside as the cold of the evening drew in, and the muffled roar of many voices spilt out into the passageway. The others had staked out a large, rickety table in the corner, and it was not without some relief that Bilbo saw that ale, stew, hard bread and sausage were still laid out before them.

Sandwiched between his friends with a full belly and a full tankard, listening to Dwarven drinking songs, Bilbo could safely say this was the best night he had seen in months. And, well, if there was not much space and he spent the evening close by the strong shoulder of the King Under the Mountain, with a muscular thigh pressed tight along his own, he was not complaining. The benches at the table had not been built for thirteen grown dwarves and a hobbit, after all. No indeed, it was not something to complain of.

A few curious glances did land on them as the only strangers in a room full of men, but mostly the Big Folk left them in peace. Flagons came and went, songs were sung, and stories were told. Bilbo even began trying to compose a worthy epitaph to the wine - quite possibly the worst form of vinegar ever produced in Middle Earth. Nori drank it down anyway, to many hoots and cheers.

Eventually the hour waxed late, and the general noise level dropped as the room began to empty out; not that some of the patrons seemed to notice. The stares and whispers of a small group near the window became much more obvious and any subtlety they had once possessed had been rapidly dissolving with each clink of their mugs. The dwarves ignored them for the most part, and Bilbo had actually forgotten about them completely. A sudden lull, however, carried a snatch of jumbled conversation across the smoky air.

"----- _beards_?!"

" What do you think then eh......."  
  
"Even the women?"

"Daft lad! What are you on about?" chimed in another.  
  
"Well, Dagwen said they _all_ have beards, just the same- "

"That _oaf_ , how would he know?" The first man scoffed. "Nothing female'd let him within twenty yards- maid, dwarf nor dragon! I -"

"Well, why don't you ask them?" interrupted the first man, gesturing with his tankard towards the company and sloshing ale over his sleeve. "Might be some of them are better looking than-"

Without warning, Dwalin was on his feet, bristling with menace and pointing a small but wicked looking blade at the men.

"Sirs!" He growled. "Of what do you speak? Do you insult my  _wife_?" He gestured towards Bofur with his free hand.  


Bilbo would have fallen backwards from the bench in astonishment if it hadn't been for a strong arm which had snaked around his waist at some point. He didn't have time to ponder that occurrence, however, because Bofur was catching his eye with a wink across the table.... and now he was  _simpering_  at the men.

Fíli banged his fist on the table, causing the tankards to jump. Kíli looked outraged. The dwarves began to mutter darkly- and Bilbo could do nothing but chew on his pipe in abject confusion. The common room fell completely silent.  
  
"Well?" Dwalin roared. The look on the drunken lakemen's faces was priceless beyond all the jewels of the earth, as Bofur tilted his head and fluttered his eyelashes beneath the brim of his hat.  
  
"No indeed! Please- beg your pardon Master Dwarf! Uh... Mistress- Madam Dwarf! Masters!" the first man stammered. "We meant no harm!"

Glancing around the table, Bilbo could see Nori now had his face buried in his tankard; evidently, the strain of keeping a straight face had become too much. The landlord was hovering in the doorway in great distress, images of brawling dwarves and smashed furniture dancing in his head, but apparently at a loss for what to do.  
  
"Peace! We accept your apology- this time." boomed Thorin. His voice was stern but Bilbo could feel a slight quivering beside him as the Dwarf fought to contain his amusement. "However, It may serve you well to guard your ignorance in future- and your manners. Now perhaps, gentledwarves, it is time we took our leave."  
  
With a huff and a last, terrible glare at the gawping menfolk, Dwalin caught up his mug and drained it. They jumped when he tossed it in their general direction, and it thudded against the floor. Then with great dignity, he caught up Bofur's arm and stomped off towards the stairs.

Bilbo nearly tripped over his feet when Bofur cast a saucy look back over his shoulder, blowing a kiss to the bewildered men. The others followed, serious as old stone.  
 

* * *

 

  
It was some time after the fire had burned low when Bilbo was awoken. Eventually, the howling mirth of the dwarves had died down to be replaced by a rolling symphony of snoring.  
  
 The room was almost pitch dark, but the dying embers glowed just enough to show Dwalin- the hero of the hour- sprawled on the coveted pallet nearest the hearth and apparently wearing Bofur's hat. An axe lay within easy reach of one hand as usual- but Bofur, rather more unusually, was passed out not far from his other.

The rest of the company lay sprawled around haphazardly, dim shapes in the gloom. At first, he thought a sound on the landing had awoken him, but now he could hear nothing unusual. His head was still a little fuzzy from the drink. Perhaps after all the excitement, he was imagining -  _Oh!_  
  
A low creak sounded in the darkness. _Inside_ the room.  
  
Was the door not bolted?

Bilbo's breath caught as the blankets were lifted and something heavy and warm slipped in beside him.

"Burglar..." the rumbling voice in his ear was unmistakable.

_Oh. Oh, indeed._

 

* * *

 

"Oof! Mind yourself, fool!"

"Ssssh!"  
  
Ale is not known for enhancing the stealth of men, and the two who crept down the passage certainly were not excelling in this regard. It is said to bolster the nerve, however- and this may go some way towards explaining why two scruffy menfolk were now crouched in the darkness with their ears pressed against a door.

For a long time, all that could be heard through the battered wood was the sound of snoring. Ale or no ale, they were about to slip away again when-  
  
Another sound- a low and throaty moan, hastily muffled. The men held their breath. A deeper moan, and indecipherable, whispered words which were almost lost in the rustling of fabric....and then, a slow and rhythmic creaking against the ancient boards.  
  
"Told you!" the first man hissed. "You witless ass, I _told_ you! There is a she-dwarf in there!! See, so they  _do_  have beards!"

With a stifled guffaw of triumph, he clapped his companion on the shoulder as he was pulled away. And if coin changed hands hastily as they staggered in the darkness, none within the room was any the wiser.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> And that, my dears, is one of the reasons the Dwarven princess in your stories sometimes have beards, all bright and braided with gold. Hmmm....what's that you say? Do the dwarrowdams really have beards or not?  
> Pssh, how in all the worlds would I know? Do I look like a dwarf? Now off with you, double quick. Shoo.
> 
> I have no idea how it works, but you can now find me on tumblr as [DziudeWrites](https://dziudewrites.tumblr.com/).


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